The Product Of Decay

No!  I Am Not Talking About Compost
Or if I were, it would be the most bizarre, not to say dangerous (always a plus here at BOOJUM!) and toxic (another tick box for the blog) matter to spread on your fields of wheat.  Or barley.  Or mangel-wurzels - which I am not entirely convinced actually exist.
     For what I refer to is, obviously - of course! - nothing but Protactinium.
     Foolish reader!  You did not realise that "Protoactinium" had been rendered into "Protactinium" as of 1949? Ha!* Art?

The stuff itself

     Welcome to element 91, which is spectacularly toxic and radioactive (more tick boxes) and which also has a wonderfully prolonged decay life, as it transitions from one element into another.  Imagine the dull and prosaic life of being an atom of Astatine, for example.  There you are, an atom of Astatine forever.  Astatine, astatine, astatine.  Unlike Protactinium!  How does this go, Art?

Isotope	231Pa	227Ac	227Th	223Ra	219Rn	215Po	211Pb	211Bi	207Tl

     That's decay from Protactinium to Actinium, then Thorium, Radium, Rhenium, Polonium, Lead, Bismuth and Tellurium.  Of course, you would need to stick around for about four times the length of recorded human history to confirm this process, so good luck.     There's not a lot of demand for Protoactinium - those un-PC dastards who agitate against toxicity and radioactivity be damned!! - so it mostly ends up being used experimentally.  As far as I know nobody ever planned or plotted to use a P91 bomb, but I'd better stop here before MI5 arrive to spoil the party.
     Well, time to sit the motley down and feed it tea and cakes!**
Talking Of Nuclear Weapons -
And before the P91arty poopers from MI5 come rapelling in through the windows, here is a little something that I found interesting.  What you think isn't important, because this is MY blog.  Art?

Extra-large so you can see every word!

     This is from the pages of "Dan Dare and the Red Moon Mystery", a stirring tale of derring-do from a man with the world's strangest eyebrows.  It is set in the autumn of 1999, and 'Tim' has just returned from atom-bombing the Red Moon (more tick boxes); not out of pique, but to try and alter it's course.  Unsuccessfully, I'm afraid.

     What you see here is Sir Hubert explaining about Planet Earth's lack of nuclear ordnance, and the inability to create any more in time.  Quite forward-looking for the time, as this was drawn in the days of the Cold War - and there's the publishing date above.
     What your humble scribe finds interesting is that the hydrogen bomb they talk about didn't exist at the time, and wouldn't until a good seven months later, when the South Canadians popped one off in the Pacific.
     If I was a member of something like the CIA, I'd be very interested to hear the "Eagle"'s explanation for this ...
Some People Have Entirely Too Much Time On Their Hands -
And yes, I am aware of the irony inherent in that statement.  Anyway, I'm not here to sell you a self-propelled scouring pipebot that will see off those KILLER EELS once and for all (not today, anyway).
     No, today we revisit that archetypal English eccentric, Colin Furze, who - surprisingly! - is still alive.  How this is still so is rather a mystery, considering this is the man who designed a suit of armour so you can stand inside firework displays.

(Conrad at a loss for words)

     Perhaps he's mellowing in his later years, because rather than build something that risks his life, limbs, sanity and neighbours, he has partnered up to create an item that only threatens other people - a full-scale Hulkbuster suit a la Avengers.  Art?

Thus

     The only thing it can't do is walk, which is a good thing, as this would put Ol' Col on the road to world domination.  It can smash, and burn, and this was demonstrated to a bunch of small children.  They were, it's safe to say, extremely alarmed when that above smashed it's way out of a giant packing crate.  Art?

Hmmmm.

     There he's either lighting the candles on a cake, or beginning to torch London.  Given that it's Ol' Col, probably the latter.

Finally -
I do beg your pardon, I very rudely mentioned Dan Dare in passing, assuming that you callow folk out there knew who he was.  You ought to, given his stature.  Art?

Dan

     I was right about the eyebrows, though, wasn't I?


*  Conrad didn't know until yesterday either, so we wonder why he's boasting <the horrid truth courtesy Mister Hand>
**  Toadstool tea and californium cakes